


don’t take my sunshine away

by evelyn_hayes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Antok is Macidus’ older brother, Brother’s Bond, Druids, Emotional Manipulation, Galra Army, Galra Reverse Bang, Gen, Haggar is a Witch, Origin Story, Sad Ending, blade of marmora, cause I like that stuff, galra - Freeform, macidus is that creepy Druid from s1 and s7, weird metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyn_hayes/pseuds/evelyn_hayes
Summary: “The universe,” Antok enunciates, “says that young Galra like us shouldn’t be messing with sentries. It’s unbecoming.”“Pfft. ‘Unbecoming’.” Macidus rolls his eyes. “What are you, a third-century princess?”Antok sighs again. A long, deep, suffering sigh.Or that Antok origin story we so desperately need.





	don’t take my sunshine away

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful GRB partne

There is a thing called a heartbeat.

 

It exists within all living things, because all living things have a heart. The heartbeat can express so many things; a fast one could signal fear or exhilaration and a slow one could mean sickness or bliss. It’s a mysterious thing, one some believe has been solved with the logic of science. They believe that a heartbeat can be comprehended simply because science has unearthed the way it works.

 

It is unwise to say that one has solved the entire mystery of such complicated concepts. That is a foolish and egotistical thought.

 

________________

 

“Macidus.”

 

“Come on, Antok!”

 

He sighs. “Macidus, I said no.”

 

Macidus throws his hands up into the air. “But the universe is saying yes! Can’t you feel it?” There’s a big grin on his face. It’s rare that he’s happy. Antok should treasure this moment, be the soft brother and say yes. But…

 

“The universe,” Antok enunciates, “says that young Galra like us shouldn’t be messing with sentries. It’s unbecoming.”

 

“Pfft. ‘Unbecoming’.” Macidus rolls his eyes. “What are you, a third-century princess?”

 

Antok sighs again. A long, deep, suffering sigh.

 

“It’s against the rules.”

 

“Quiznak the rules.”

 

“That’s not how you use that word, Macidus.”

 

Macidus sticks out his tongue. “Whatever, Mr. Goody-Two-Claws. I’m not even going to touch the sentries.”

 

“What? You just said that you wanted to see if sentries are powered by crystal tech or quintessence a dobosh ago. How are you possibly going to do that without touching them?”

 

Macidus wiggles his eyebrows. “Come with me and find out.”

 

There it is. The inevitable challenge. This means his little brother is getting desperate. Trying to appeal to the unquestionable honour of Antok in a last ditch effort to achieve his wishes. It should be easy to refuse. Macidus will give up soon. This is a terrible idea. This might get them kicked out the airlock.

 

Antok has to admit, though, he’s curious. And he really doesn’t want to let Macidus down. He wants him to smile.

 

Quiznak. Ain’t he a good older brother, prioritizing his brother’s emotions over his safety?

 

Antok closes his eyes and slowly opens them. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when we get kicked off this ship.”

 

Macidus pumps his fist and sprints straight for the door of their room. “Yess! Quiznak!”

 

“Wha--that makes zero sense.”

 

His little brother stops in his tracks and sighs. “Antok. The universe wasn’t designed to make sense.”

 

It’s little moments like this than Antok wonders what goes on inside his little brother’s head. It scares Antok sometimes, how thoughtful his brother is. His mind, so intelligent and sharp, wasting away in the sad life Antok has managed to cobble together for the both of them. A genius under the care of a mook.

 

I am sorry, he thinks, for never being enough. You deserve more.

 

Then the asshole runs down the corridors cackling, and Antok firmly decides his brother is an idiot.

 

________________

 

Of course, they get caught.

 

By Haggar, no less.

 

He’s never been in the presence of high ranking Galra, never mind the leader of the Komar. She’s short, with a hunched back and wispy white hair—physical traits that exude weakness rather than authority. Her mere presence, however, has a rather disorienting effect on him; it’s like she barely exists, holding onto life by mere threads. That’s enough to make him fear her. She holds on, despite everything. Stubbornness is a power he’s well aware of; his brother is loaded with it.

 

Once she speaks, her glowing yellow eyes fixed onto his own, Antok truly feels miniscule. Tiny. Insignificant.

 

Macidus had once told him that power is a strange thing; those who seem to be the weakest are the strongest, and those who seem powerful are truly tormented by their inner demons. The former is ridiculously correct about Haggar. The latter, Antok doesn’t know yet.

 

“Antok. Is that right?” the witch asks. He recalls the rumours about Haggar’s ability to read minds and gulps. He nods, then realizes it’s impolite to answer a superior non-verbally.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Haggar narrows her eyes. “How old are you, Antok?”

 

“Old enough to be working on this cruiser, ma’am.”

 

“Just barely.”

 

There’s a hidden meaning behind her words. He doesn’t know what it is.

 

“That’s true, ma’am,” he replies, trying to gauge more of a response from Haggar so he could understand her true intent. A technique Antok is quite skilled in, having used it to his advantage far too many times in his favour in the past.

 

She turns. “Macidus.”

 

His little brother sits up straighter, right hand trembling. “Ma’am!”

 

Haggar returns her piercing gaze back to Antok. Sweating, he frantically recalls every past second of this conversation, searching for clues, wondering why in the name of Daibazaal Haggar called out his little brother—

 

Quiznak! Macidus wasn’t old enough to be working on this ship. The cruiser didn’t accept any children under the age of twelve unless they were with their legal guardian, which Antok wasn’t; he was too young for that status. Antok could be arrested for child labour. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t separate from Macidus. Not after what happened to their younger sister.

 

Antok draws in a breath, then exhales. “I’m very sorry, Ma’am.”

 

“So you are aware you’re breaking the law.”

 

“I had to, ma’am. I hope you understand that.”

 

Haggar stills. “You had to.” She’s asking for an explanation. Antok’s not looking for a fight, so he answers.

 

“There was no way we could survive without my having a job. I had hopes working in a Galra cruiser would mean I could bring my brother with me, but—”

 

“The cruisers didn’t allow anyone onboard if they weren’t part of the crew,” Macidus picks up, body suddenly still, eyes sparking in defiance. “Antok couldn’t leave me on the planet by myself.”

 

Haggar, to Antok’s surprise, seems amused with Macidus’ boldness. “There are other solutions.”

 

“We didn’t have time for other solutions,” snarls Macidus. “Our parents were out to kill us! We had to leave the planet before they gutted us and sold our kidneys to perverted assholes—which, by the way, there are plenty of in this universe, why aren’t you dealing with those scumbags? Huh? When we needed the Galra army to save us, you weren’t there! We had to make do! Antok didn’t even want to do it, saying he’d ‘find something else’. I told him bullshit, you’re taking the job, because we didn’t have a choice! We could have had that choice if—”

 

“Macidus! Not here,” Antok hisses. His little brother’s wisdom came with burning passion. While it was endearing and very much enviable, this was not the place or time.

 

Macidus snaps out of it, eyes widening in horror once he realizes he yelled at Haggar, the high priestess and right hand of Emperor Zarkon. “I—I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean—oh quiznak, oh no…”

 

His right hand is trembling again. Antok grabs onto it, hoping that touch will calm his brother. “Please forgive him. Whatever you’re going to do to him, do to me, please—”

 

“NO! Antok!”

 

“Macidus, shush.” Antok’s voice is firm, but he adds a reassuring smile in. For his little brother’s sake.

 

“Stop calling me your little brother!”

 

Antok blinks.

 

“I never…I never said that.”

 

“Bull. I just heard you.”

 

“No, Macidus…”

 

Haggar laughs. The sound reverberates through his bones, jabbing the feeling of wrong the witch carries with her deep inside him. Macidus shudders under Antok’s grip. Antok puts a protective arm around him. 

 

The witch grins at their reaction. “You can breathe easy, Antok. I will not punish Macidus. I will punish you, however, but this is not the time. That will come later. I imagine your brother will need you by his side in this new chapter of his life.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Manners! “Uh. Ma’am.”

 

She turns to Macidus. “Come, my dear.”

 

Antok freezes, the world going red in his panic. “Don’t touch him.”

 

“Antok…”

 

“No, Macidus! I can’t let her take you away from me!”

 

“Quite the opposite, my child.”

 

“How am I supposed to believe you, witch?”

 

“Antok!”

 

“What, Macidus!” He’s breathing hard. Losing control. Antok closes his eyes, trying to find some peace.

 

It comes in the form of a soft hey and a smile from his brother. “It’s okay, Antok. She’s going to help me.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because,” rasps the witch, “he is Chosen, like me.”

 

Chosen. Blessed with magic. Like all members of the Komar.

 

Macidus gapes. “So all this time, you haven’t been speaking…”

 

“You have the ability to listen in onto others’ minds, my child. A stronger ability than most, especially for your age.” Haggar’s eyes are still…disconcerting. But they’re softer now. Kinder. Almost…motherly.

 

Safe. Warm. Home.

 

Antok hasn’t felt this peaceful in such a long time.

 

Then the contact breaks, leaving Antok shivering and shaking. There’s a void, now, where the fullness was. It scares him. If Haggar can do that with a look...

 

The High Priestess looks to Macidus. “My child. How would you feel about becoming a Druid of the Komar?”

 

Antok feels a stone drop in his stomach. He knows this should be the best thing that could happen to them. The druids are treated like royalty by Galra, since their ability to harvest quintessence was essential to the species’ survival. Macidus would have a better life than anything Antok could scrounge up.

 

Then again...he’d be serving under the command of Haggar, who’d just played with Antok’s emotions with just a look.

 

Antok wants Macidus to say no. But that’s unfair on him.

 

When he turns to Macidus, his eyes are wide with indecision. Antok smiles at him. This is your life. Your choice. Not mine. It’s easier to direct his thoughts to Macidus now that Antok actually knows he can read his mind. It feels more secure, knowing that Haggar wouldn’t hear their communication.

 

Macidus says yes. Antok’s not happy about it. But if there’s something the universe could never take away from them, it’s their connection.

 

Even Haggar will have a hard time separating them.

 

________________

 

It’s four quintants before Antok sees Macidus again, face to face.

 

As part of the arrangement, Haggar had taken in Macidus under her wing and trained him in the ways of the Komar. Macidus and Antok had been equally vocal about their unwillingness to split, so Antok had been transferred to the High Priestess’ cruiser. Even then, it had been fleeting VrepitChat calls made in the crack of midnight, the only time either were free to chat on the busy cruiser.

 

While Macidus was content with VrepitChat calls, Antok wanted to see his brother face-to-face, make sure in person that Macidus was alright. Macidus, excited at the prospect, had asked Haggar for a day off from training and Antok had managed to rearrange his day’s shifts to make time.

 

They decide to meet at the mess hall. When Macidus walks in, Antok’s taken aback from how much height he’s added on, along with a sturdier build. He’s no longer the bony, small street kid wrapped in rags Antok’s been looking after his whole life, but rather a tall, fit Druid of the Galra Empire dressed in extravagant robes and an elaborate mask. A pang of guilt reverberates in his spine at the fact that even with all of Antok’s love and effort, he can’t give Macidus what he really needs.

 

Macidus, upon seeing him, pulls off his mask and smiles so widely Antok can feel his happiness in his head. “Antok!” he yells, running towards him with wide arms and launching himself into Antok. Antok catches him easy, years of practice keeping him steady. And as usual, Macidus’ spindly arms threaten to squeeze the life out of him—just until Antok starts choking and says “uncle”. They laugh over the familiar reunion, and a tingle of warmth flits inside Antok’s heart at the fact that despite all their time apart, they’re still them.

 

“Look, Antok! I’m actually tall now!” Macidus emphasizes his point by pulling his face into a snarl and squaring his shoulders.

 

Antok reaches over and messes up Macidus’ hair with a smug grin. “I can still do that, though.” Macidus huffs and flicks off his hand.

 

The conversation between the two hasn’t lulled for all the time they’ve been separated. They talk about life; Macidus about his training and his newfound abilities, and Antok about his indecision over signing up for the Army as a guard. Macidus encourages him to support his people—something Antok’s never heard from Macidus—and finishes off with a strangely profound sentence much more Macidus than the propaganda he was spewing out a minute ago.

 

Antok shakes it off. Macidus is a Druid now; he’s seen all the good the Galra Empire can do. Maybe he’s seeing the world from a brighter perspective now that he’s finally happy and safe. Antok is good with that. As long as they don’t take him away from Antok.

 

They part hours later, smiles on their faces and a promise to do this again sometime soon.

 

________________

 

Sometime soon becomes a decaphoeb.

 

Antok, taking Macidus’ advice, signs up for the Army. It’s been a while since he’s first started, working alongside a senior guard named Kyht and another junior guard like him named Olnea. Kyht is kind and patient, walking them through the basic stances when they got confused and gently reminding them about meetings coming up on days they were so tired they couldn’t even remember what one plus one was.

 

Olnea reminds him of his little sister, long lost now. She’s headstrong, quiet, and damn good at making split-second decisions. She’s even half-Galran, like his sister was—horns pressed against her skull and sharp yellow eyes highlighted by ultramarine eyes.

 

But Acxa’s gone. Antok and Macidus’ parents made sure of it.

 

________________

 

He wonders, on cold nights, what Macidus is up to on the other side of the cruiser.

 

________________

 

It doesn’t take long for Antok to notice that something’s wrong with Kyht.

 

The Red Lion was recovered by the Galra a quintant ago. Ever since then, Kyht’s been tense, brows a little more furrowed and eyes a little less soft. Antok doesn’t understand the reaction—the recovering of the Red Lion is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?

 

Unless Kyht’s not really loyal to the Galra army.

 

There’s been rumours, mostly from the barracks, about a secret organization of Galra that work to destroy Zarkon and end his reign. Antok had dismissed it as a rookie’s tale, a story to try and gain some more standing, but with Kyht’s behaviour nowadays…

 

Antok lets it simmer in his mind for a few days until the curiosity overtakes him.

 

The actual confrontation is simple. Kyht’s a big man; taller than most other Galra and shoulders big enough to get caught in smaller doors. Antok corners him inside a munitions closet and takes the luxite dagger Kyht is so fond of and shoves it near his throat.

 

“Do you take back your oath to the Galra Empire?” Antok demands, trying to use his own heigh and bulk to intimidate the other Galra.

 

Kyht’s relatively unaffected by this; a surprise to the younger soldier. “I always knew you were a little more keen than the others.”

 

“Is it true?” Antok says, stronger. It’s unwise to listen to an enemy’s kind words, lest they invade your mind. “Are you a traitor to the Galra Empire?”

 

“No,” Kyht replies firmly, eyes suddenly blazing. “I serve in the name of all Galra. I just don’t serve Zarkon and his quintessence-riddled mind.”

 

Antok narrows his eyes. “So you are a traitor.”

 

“To the crown, perhaps.” Kyht nods. “But not to you. Not to all the Galra in this world that want nothing more than to go home.”

 

Home.

 

How long had it been since Antok was home? The cruiser was just a place to him, just a cold, durasteel ship to house him and thousands more people. How long had it been since he could relax in a warm bed, senses not alert at all times to fend for his and Macidus’ safety, simply taking the time to connect with the world?

 

How long had it been since he could rest?

 

Antok lowers the blade. A moment’s hesitation later, he hands it back to Kyht. His eyes are wide in shock as he accepts the blade, sheathing it.

 

Antok closes his eyes. Breathes.

 

“Start with your real name. I know damn well it isn’t Kyht.”

 

________________

 

His name is Kolivan. He leads the Blade of Marmora.

 

The more Kolivan talks about his mission, his motivation, the more Antok understands. The Marmora are not traitors to all the Galra stand for; they are as much Galra as the feared commanders Sendak and Trugg. The Marmora are just a little more aware of the consequences of their actions. And they’re all united behind a singular drive: home.

 

Knowledge or death, Kolivan tells him, and Antok has never heard anything truer. It’s not a battle cry, it’s a blatant truth. If he’s unaware of the dangers, he will die. If he jumps into the foray with nothing but hope and faith, he will still get pulled down, albeit with a much more grandiose ending.

 

Kolivan gifts him a luxite blade one day, a beautiful thing with a sleek black handle and long slick blade. It’s a perfect balance between bulky and languid, easy to wield with both agility and force. Antok finds himself practicing shifting the blade between the dagger and the sword in his spare time, the connection between himself and his sword growing with every second he spends with it.

 

Despite the talking and the gifting, Kolivan isn’t pushy about the topic. Antok’s still wary of him, as after all, he had lied about his identity and his loyalties. Kolivan had never lied about his personality, however, and he gives Antok space when he asks for some, staying his usual kind and respectful self. Kolivan’s careful to let Antok mull this over on his own, without Kolivan’s intervention. Antok respects that, and thanks him for the space. Kolivan responds with a small smile.

 

Antok wonders what Macidus would think about his growing dissociation from the Galra army.

 

________________

 

Olnea leaves with Lotor the next day to become his right hand officer.

 

It’s that night that Olnea tells him that she’s going to miss him, and she regrets that she’s never been truthful with him. Antok’s confused until the next morning, when he puts two and two together and realizes that Acxa’s been right next to him this whole time.

 

His sister. The one he failed.

 

It’s in that minute that Antok feels a renewed need to meet Macidus again. Before he loses him, like he lost Acxa.

 

________________

 

The meeting’s different this time. It’s not at the mess hall, for starters. Macidus now has his own office, which would give the two privacy as they talk.

 

This time, Macidus doesn’t take off the mask. Which means there’s no hug.

 

Antok feels his heart break a little.

 


End file.
